Maybe
by Hisa-Ai
Summary: So Merlin was content to tell himself, in the beginning of things, that nothing would truly last forever, least of all his torrid love affair with the crown Prince of Camelot.


**This was _kind of_ inspired by the bit in Taylor Swift's "Wildest Dreams" that goes like: **_  
><em>

_I said, "No one has to know what we do,"_  
><em>His hands are in my hair, his clothes are in my room<em>  
><em>And his voice is a familiar sound,<em>  
><em>Nothing lasts forever<em>

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing, as per usual.

* * *

><p><em>Maybe<em>

* * *

><p>*.*.*.*.*<p>

It started out innocent enough—flirtatious back-and-forths, and bedroom eyes, and soft smiles, seductive lingering touches, glances at lips that planted the want for more more _more_—until suddenly... suddenly it _wasn't_ so innocent. Suddenly it was stolen glances, and greedy touches, being backed against doors and walls, and bruises along collarbones hidden with scarves and armor.

It wasn't even a slow build, Merlin thought—though Arthur would snort in derision at such a suggestion, because it had taken _far_ too long to get to this point for his liking, thank you very much—because one minute it was barely being able to stand being near each other, the next it was barely being able to stand being _away_ from each other, with rough, sometimes _needy,_ passionate sex in either of their rooms to make up for all the moments that they _had_ to be without the other through-out the day.

Not that it mattered, really, how much build up or time there was in between the two extremes, not that _anything_ mattered when they were tangled in Arthur's sheets or squished together on Merlin's much too tiny bed, _other_ than the way Arthur's hand tangled itself in Merlin's hair when they kissed or how he left his shirts in Merlin's room sometimes—when the pile of clean laundry is _right there_, Arthur argued, why should he bother putting dirty clothes back on?—and if the prince _happened_ to come up missing a shirt or two because his manservant _misplaced_ them—or never wanted to give them back, more like—no one really seemed to care or notice in the least.

When they _weren't_ tangled in Arthur's sheets or squished together on Merlin's much too tiny bed, however, and Merlin had a slightly clearer head about things, he was sure that if anyone discovered the true nature of the relationship between him and Arthur... it might have been frowned upon, to say the least, most of all by the king. And the Gods only knew how it would all _end_—if anyone found out, that was.

So Merlin was content to tell himself, in the beginning of things, that nothing would truly last forever, least of all his torrid love affair with the crown Prince of Camelot. He was content to mumble against Arthur's skin, as a soft reminder to both himself and Arthur, that no one needed to know about them, about the things they did, and how they were when they were alone together.

He was content—turned on even, sometimes—with the secrecy, and thought that they would _have_ to come to an end at some point or another.

And then he made the mistake of falling in love. Or rather, of _realizing_ that he was in love with Arthur, because surely it had been happening for some time now, surely it was something that had been going on for as long as he and Arthur had been... He and Arthur. And suddenly the way Arthur's hand tangled in his hair made him _crave_ the same intimacy outside of empty hallways and crowded beds and it _shouldn't have_, he knew he was meant to know better, but God, would it have been crazy to kiss Arthur like that in front of actual _people?_

"Maybe," Arthur mumbled in return when Merlin voiced such thoughts to him one night, his head on Merlin's chest, Merlin's fingers tracing absentminded patterns on Arthur's back and shoulder blades. "Would it be crazy to kiss you back like that in front of actual _people?"_ He asked, a gentle confirmation to Merlin that, well, it wasn't one-sided, wasn't just _him_ who felt like this.

Merlin chuckled, grin on his face as he shrugged in response, "Maybe."

And the subject was dropped, for the longest of times, and they kept with their routine, with their... whatever it was that they _were, _actually, more than friends, no less than lovers, and not quite in a _proper_ relationship, in so many words. But it was...

Becoming less than okay, actually. And Merlin would have been tempted to bring it up, if he wasn't so preoccupied with Arthur's touch, and taste—and the odd chore and duty he had to attend to every now and then, too.

One day, however, Arthur seemed... Different. Somehow, he couldn't seem to untangle himself from Merlin even long after they'd left his sheets and bed behind and were meant to be... a normal prince and manservant, not _Arthur and Merlin_. But Arthur—God, Arthur didn't seem to _care_ this day, even more hovering and flirtatious than usual, fingers brushing against Merlin in a way that he usually reserved for quiet moments alone in his chambers or Merlin's room.

Not that Merlin could find it in himself to mind too much, of course. And anyway, it was mostly harmless teasings and touchings that could be brushed off as Arthur being _Arthur_ towards his manservant, to the right people, if anyone seemed to be paying much attention to the pair of them anyway, which, as far as Merlin knew, no one was. During dinner while Merlin was busy serving and Arthur couldn't quite keep his eyes to himself, he would have _sworn_ he saw Morgana and Uther share a _look,_ complete with Uther all but rolling his eyes at his son's behavior.

But Merlin was sure he was just seeing things.

Later that evening, tucked away in Arthur's chambers, as Merlin began to undress Arthur for bed, he couldn't help but raise a curious eyebrow, smirk on his face as he began, "So _someone_ couldn't seem to get enough of me today..."

Arthur grinned in response, cheeks flushed as he shook his head, replied in a low murmur, "I can _never_ get enough of you, actually. Just... today I couldn't stand it, you know? Having to... sneak about and hide how I feel about you... I probably should ha—"

Merlin leaned forward, then, effectively cutting off the rest of Arthur's sentence with a long kiss, pulling back with a sigh a moment later, resting his forehead against Arthur's for a moment. "Is that... going to become a regular thing? You being the complete _opposite_ of secretive about us?"

"Maybe," Arthur replied, small grin tugging itself into place on his face. "Won't be a problem, will it?"

"No. No, I don't think so. But, your father—"

"My father saw the way I was looking at you all through-out dinner—honestly, I could have snogged you right then and there and I don't think he would have been too surprised." Arthur interrupted, rolling his eyes quickly before adding, "Now are we going to talk about my father some more, or are you going to kiss me again?"

Letting out an amused, affectionate sort of laugh, Merlin closed the rest of the distance between the pair of them, kissed Arthur long and slow and sweet, as he decided that secrets and _fathers_ were subjects that were best left for entirely different moods and settings altogether.

*.*.*.*.*


End file.
